The boatswain obeyed, and pushed the boat off with
his foot as he scrambled in.

The men bent to their oars and rowed rapidly to the
schooner, which was easily distinguishable, having
hung out a light at her mizzenmast head.

In two minutes they were alongside.

The Count d’Artigas was leaning on the bulwarks
by the gangway.

“All right, Spade?” he questioned.

“Yes, sir, all right!”

“Both of them?”

“Both the madman and his keeper.”

“Doesn’t anybody know about it up at Healthful
House?

“Not a soul.”

It was not likely that Gaydon, whose eyes and ears
were bandaged, but who preserved all his sang-froid,
could have recognized the voices of the Count d’Artigas
and Captain Spade. Nor did he have the chance
to. No attempt was immediately made to hoist
him on board. He had been lying in the bottom
of the boat alongside the schooner for fully half
an hour, he calculated, before he felt himself lifted,
and then lowered, doubtless to the bottom of the hold.

The kidnapping having been accomplished it would seem
that it only remained for the Ebba to weigh
anchor, descend the estuary and make her way out to
sea through Pamlico Sound. Yet no preparations
for departure were made.

Was it not dangerous to stay where they were after
their daring raid? Had the Count d’Artigas
hidden his prisoners so securely as to preclude the
possibility of their being discovered if the Ebba,
whose presence in proximity to Healthful House could
not fail to excite suspicion, received a visit from
the New-Berne police?

However this might have been, an hour after the return
of the expedition, every soul on board save the watch—­the
Count d’Artigas, Serko, and Captain Spade in
their respective cabins, and the crew in the fore-castle,
were sound asleep.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SCHOONER EBBA.

It was not till the next morning, and then very leisurely,
that the Ebba began to make preparations for
her departure. From the extremity of New-Berne
quay the crew might have been seen holystoning the
deck, after which they loosened the reef lines, under
the direction of Effrondat, the boatswain, hoisted
in the boats and cleared the halyards.

At eight o’clock the Count d’Artigas had
not yet appeared on deck. His companion, Serko
the engineer, as he was called on board, had not quitted
his cabin. Captain Spade was strolling quietly
about giving orders.

The Ebba would have made a splendid racing
yacht, though she had never participated in any of
the yacht races either on the North American or British
coasts. The height of her masts, the extent of
the canvas she carried, her shapely, raking hull, denoted
her to be a craft of great speed, and her general
lines showed that she was also built to weather the
roughest gales at sea. In a favorable wind she
would probably make twelve knots an hour.